take a breath and take your time
by The North Wyn
Summary: Missing scene for 2x09/2x10 in which Lance finds out about Mack and comforts Bobbi. Huntingbird.


**A/N: **An AU version of the scene where Lance finds out Mack is dead and comforts Bobbi. That is the fic I wrote 96% of prior to the ep airing and then life happened in a bad way and it didn't get finished until now and I still kind of like it so I'm sharing it anyway. Also, the title is from Disaster Hearts by I Fight Dragons.

**Warnings: **Alcohol Mentions, Character Death obviously

* * *

><p>Hunter straightens up as Bobbi, Fitz, Coulson, and Jemma come into his line of sight. They're not going to be thrilled when they hear that their ex-friend and ex-prisoner has kidnapped Skye. Taken with her permission as a hostage, whatever. May and Trip are planning and they'd sent him down to deliver the bad news, which just <em>bloody<em> figures.

Wait.

Something's wrong. There are four people where there should be five. He blinks and counts again, although he could have missed seeing such a giant, he doesn't know.

"Bobbi? Where's Mack?" He does a double take. Bobbi's eyes are bloodshot and he knows her well enough to know she's swallowing back tears. He doesn't think he's ever seen her so destroyed. "Bob?"

"He—he's dead! I _killed_ him!"

_What?_

The question is on the tip of his tongue, but Bobbi is dissolving in front of him, so he focuses on that first. He pulls her into his arms and looks around to the others for an explanation.

Coulson is the one who answers. "Something happened to him down there. He's gone. I'm sorry."

Well, that just bloody clears everything up.

"Bobbi had to," Jemma says, blinking back tears, the knuckles on the hand clutching Fitz's arm turning pale with the effort. "She was protecting us."

That did sound like Bobbi. She would never hurt Mack, unless he was hurting others and she had to.

"H—he tried to attack us. It wasn't him, but we—we couldn't stop him. I know he was your – your ..." Fitz's face crumples in distress.

"Friend." Jemma adds softly. Fitz nods.

"He—he didn't mean to. He was—some—something happened to him. Otherwise he—he would never, umm, hurt us."

Lance still has no idea exactly what happened, but they're all staring at him expectantly and he's figured out enough. He nods and then watches as Coulson shepherds Fitz and Simmons out. Bobbi's still shaking in his arms and that is his first priority. He finds a bench for them to sit on and guides them both down, pulling her into his lap. She curls against him, burying her face against his neck and curling one hand in his jacket. He wraps one arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist and holds on tightly. He doesn't know how long they sit there, her hot tears soaking his t-shirt, his throat becoming sore from him swallowing his own back.

"Please don't die, Lance; you're all I have left." She whispers at last, voice hoarse from crying.

"I won't."

She lifts her tear-stained face to look at him, something fierce shining in her eyes. "I mean it, Lance, don't you dare die."

"I won't, Bobbi," Lance repeats, earnestly. "I promise."

"I know you, Hunter," Bobbi mutters against his shoulder. "You'll do something stupid and get yourself killed."

"That's what I have you for," he says softly, rubbing a hand in gentle circles across her back. "To stop me from doing something stupid."

She actually laughs, a low rumble that tickles his collarbone. "Like you ever listen to me."

That's true, he supposes. Still.

"I'll do better, Bobbi, I swear," he says desperately. He'd say or do anything to comfort her right now. He's seldom seen her so vulnerable and it's leaving a terrifying ache in his stomach. He needs a drink. But getting one right now means leaving Bobbi and he won't do that. Not now.

"I'll believe that when I see it." Now she almost sounds like herself.

They sit in silence together a while longer. Bobbi's no longer trembling in his arms, so he's thankful for small mercies.

"It's not your fault, you know, Bob."

"I know."

"But you're blaming yourself, anyway."

"I should have been able to do something. _I'm _the specialist. I'm the expert in combat. I was down there to protect them, to protect _him. _I should have stopped it. I should have saved him."

"Mack was trained in combat, too; you know that. He could hold his own in the field."

Bobbi shakes her head slightly, but doesn't push. She slides off his lap and then gives him a hand up. "What do we do now?"

"You're asking me? You usually have all the answers."

Bobbi's face crumples, somewhere between exhaustion and pain. That was low, even for him. It had just slipped out. He hadn't meant it cruelly. Mack would have been unimpressed; he thinks wryly.

"I didn't mean—I'm sorry. I don't know, Bobbi. I – Let's get a drink, ok? We can figure it out from there."

She nods. He reaches for her hand. She stiffens for a second; they're not really the hand-holding type. Then she relaxes and leans against him. She squeezes his hand.

They never make it to get a drink. They're interceded by Trip.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Trip says sincerely, looking Bobbi directly in the eyes. "Mack was a good guy."

Bobbi squeezes Lance's hand harder. "Yes, he was."

Trip nods and glances Lance's way. He nods at him. "Sorry, man."

"Thanks, mate."

"I hate to do this when you're grieving, but we need to get Skye back. We need all hands on deck."

Bobbi frowns. "Skye?"

Oh, yeah, they never got to that part. "Ward took her."

Bobbi's frown deepens. She glances over at Trip, waiting for more of an explanation.

"Long story," Trip replies. "I'll fill you in on the way?"

Busy is good, Lance thinks, as they stride down the hall (and bloody tall people and their long legs. He knows that this is an emergency, but couldn't they slow down so that he could keep up?). Busy hurts less. Busy is almost as good as a drink. Almost.

Trip stops them just outside the door. Quietly he asks, "Are you sure you're going to be ok to do this? I know that we don't have the luxury-"

"I'm good." Bobbi says firmly. "I want to destroy something."

Trip nods. "I can respect that."

Trip opens the door and they step in. May glances up as they enter the briefing room. Lance swears the woman's aged ten years in the past few hours. He glances over at Bobbi. She's not the only one.

"We'll get her back, May," Bobbi says, looking directly at May. "We're not losing anyone else today."

May nods. Something passes between the two women that Lance knows he could never hope to understand.

May clicks the safety off her gun. "Ready?"

Bobbi nods. "Ready. Let's go get our girl."


End file.
